USA > Vermont > Rutland County > Wallingford > People of Wallingford, a compilation > Part 23
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There were mullets in Fox Pond which, at a certain time in the spring ran in schools. As the time approached for the mullets to run Mr. Pratt made preparations for a catch, and the subject was discussed at length with some neighbor equally interested in the sport, who dropped into the shop in anticipation of a night to be
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spent at Mullet Point on the east shore of the pond in company with Mr. Pratt and possibly others.
No bait was used to catch these fish, but instead, a number of hooks were attached to a line that was cast from the shore as far as possible out into the water and then rapidly drawn in with the hope of drawing it through a school of rapidly running fish and of impaling one or more fish on the hooks. This was always done at night by the light of a lantern or camp fire. The fish only ran for a short time-perhaps a few nights-so it was necessary to know just when they were running and to be on hand equipped for the sport. Needless to say, a good catch furnished a subject of animated conversation at the shop for some days afterward. Mr. Pratt would lay down his plane or saw and sit on his bench when a neighbor came in and took a seat beside the stove. Then followed a colorful statement of the details of the night of real sport at Fox Pond.
A fishpole that I admired lay on nails, high up on the wall in Mr. Pratt's shop. It was a hickory sapling with the smooth bark left on, about an inch in diameter at the butt, tapering uniformly to the tip. It had been carefully selected and seasoned, and was remarkably straight, strong and elastic. My admiration for this fish pole caused Mr. Pratt to remark one day that we would go into the woods sometime and cut a similar pole for me. I was pleased in anticipation and was impatient for the day to come. Not long after Mr. Pratt kept his word and we started on our search. We crossed the creek by the bridge below the mill dam, followed the road through the Townsend Farm into the pasture at the end of the road and entered the woods lying to the north- ward. We tramped for an hour or more through the woods, up hill and down, seeking a straight hickory sapling of the right size. We were about ready to give up the search in despair and go home empty-handed, when we took one more look about and found one in the southeast corner of the woods. Needless to
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say, I was delighted! It was cut and taken back to the shop where Mr. Pratt trimmed it, then laid it straight on the wall and fastened it to dry. Later it was sandpapered and given to me.
There was one subject on which Mr. Pratt frequently spoke with emphasis and feeling: that was the extravagance of main- taining the village graded school. He doubtless had received only the advantages of a district school education and saw no reason for wasting more time and public money on boys and girls, espe- cially in view of the tax burden.
The front room in his shop was rented for a time to Horace and Walter Earl who conducted a harness shop. Later Mr. Pratt used the room to store and exhibit burial caskets which he bought to supplement his supply of home-made coffins, the latter being stored on the second floor.
The next house on the street beyond Mr. Pratt's shop was oc- cupied by Mr. Frank Post and his family. Concerning him more has been written in another part of this chapter. The family in- cluded Mrs. Post and three daughters. The house in which they lived was built by Jonathan Carpenter in 1856 or 1857. It was cus- tomary in those days for many of the families in Wallingford, as elsewhere, to make soft soap. The chief materials for this were scraps of fat and grease from the kitchen, accumulated in some suitable receptacle and lye made by leaching wood ashes. Nearly everyone burned wood and a considerable quantity of ashes ac- cumulated in the course of a year. These were placed in barrels, and water was poured on the ashes from time to time. As the water percolated down through the ashes a solution of potash, called lye, was formed and dripped out at the bottom of the barrels. The grease and fat boiled in the lye made soap which had a semi-fluid consistency. Mrs. Post, like all thrifty housewives, saved her soap-grease and wood-ashes for soap making once a year but she always had difficulty in making her grease and ashes come out even, which was annoying.
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Mrs. Post was an estimable woman. Her intentions were good but her judgment was sometimes at fault. She had a class of girls in Sunday-school whom she invited to her house to tea; after they had been in the parlor for some time one of the little daughters of the family came in and said supper would not be ready for a while because the fruit-cake was not done.
One autumn Mrs. Post decided her family must have a supply of butternuts laid in for the winter and anxiously inquired where she could get more, as she had been able to procure only twelve bushels. Efforts were made to have this story scaled down by the person who related it but he stoutly refused to reduce it a butter- nut.
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Miller lived in the next house, which is nearest Main Street. Mrs. Miller's maiden name was Randall, a name familiar in the history of Wallingford almost from the beginning. It was her brother who gave the town clock that strikes the hours in the tower of the town hall. Mr. Miller was a "Forty-niner," having sailed around the Horn to California in the rush for gold. Evidently he was an adventuresome young man, but we are not informed of the profits of his adventure. All that we know is that he brought home gold which he had made into a ring and a brooch for his wife. They were married Septem- ber 25, 1856.
Mr. Miller owned a farm located about two miles south of the village which was carried on by a tenant farmer, but his chief occupation was buying farm produce and shipping it to the Boston market. He suffered from a defect of speech which caused him to stutter badly; his efforts to express himself were at times amusing to other people.
Whenever we boys had a few pennies to spend our paths led directly to Luther Tower's candy shop that stood on the east side of Main Street, the second building from School Street. He may have kept some groceries but only his stock of candy inter-
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ested us. Every Friday morning (I think it was Friday) Mr. Tower might be seen at the railway station with a large market basket on his arm, waiting for the northbound train to take him to Rutland. The object of the trip was to replenish his stock of striped sticks of candy at Howe's where it was made fresh every day. He was friendly to the children on whom his trade largely depended.
Mr. Tower, the son of Ezra Tower, a capable and energetic carpenter, was born December 3, 1813, in Suffolk County, Long Island. The father moved to Wallingford in August, 1814. Young Luther received only such rudimentary education as could be obtained in that part of Wallingford called Hartsboro. He learned his father's trade and became noted as an excellent me- chanic. In 1841 he married Elizabeth Bruce, and they had one son, Eugene, who, when nineteen years of age, was struck by the cars and killed. Mr. Tower was Station Agent for the Railway Com- pany nine years from 1862. After leaving the depot he opened his store. He was a temperate man. The story is told that he and his brother George had everything ready to raise a house and they agreed to have the raising without rum. In extending the invita- tions for help, in order that none should be disappointed, the notice was given that there would be no liquor furnished. This was an unheard of innovation upon the customs of the times. The raising was well attended without complaint, and never after did he furnish liquor to anyone. Luther Tower's father, called Captain Tower, erected the large house on Goodyear Clark's farm, one of the finest in town.
Mr. Tower's two sisters, Permela and Sylvira, lived in the first house on the south side of School Street. Miss Permela was a dressmaker and Miss "Sylva," as she was commonly called, the housekeeper.
During these years Wallingford had three active practicing physicians; Dr. William C. Fox, Dr. John E. Hitt and Dr. George
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M. Noble. We speak of Dr. Fox in another chapter. Dr. Hitt lived in the old Lent Ives house, now standing much altered, behind the Town Hall. He had two sons, Henry and George, my con- temporaries in the public school, and both good students. The boys did not live beyond middle life. There was also a young daughter, Maud.
Dr. Hitt had a keen mind with an unusual memory for people and events that make the history of this community. If he were living he could fill many voids in these records. Fred Scribner, who took a medical course at Dartmouth College, got inspiration from his conversations with Dr. Hitt, which were frequent when Fred was at home. This calls to mind an incident: when Fred was studying at Hanover he got possession of a cadaver which he shipped home for dissection at some future time. When the box arrived it was placed in a closet on the second floor of the vacant office of the Old Stone Shop. Alterations were being made to the Scribner house. One of the carpenters cut his hand and, searching for a rag to wrap about the injured member, he entered the vacant office, wandered up the stairs into a room once used for a sleeping chamber, opened a closet door and there observed a box. The lid of the box was not fastened and he lifted it, view- ing the remains of a human being. His face turned pale. He could not have been more frightened if a highwayman had pointed a gun in his face. He closed the box and made a rapid retreat to tell his companions what he had discovered. "Why," he said, "the flesh stood right out on the hands."
Dr. George M. Noble was a bachelor and had an apartment over a grocery store; third building on the west side of Main Street, north of Roaring Brook. The apartment was reached by an outside stairway. On his door hung a slate on which he left information as to where he might be found when he went out. It frequently read, "Gone to Jay Noble's by way of Chippen- hook." Occasionally a mischievous boy sought to make a prac-
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tical joke by adding a few words, but the doctor's usual good nature defeated his purpose.
On a hot summer day Dr. Noble, without coat or vest, stood at the railway station as the train pulled in from the south. A little girl looked out of an open car window, then speaking to her mother sitting beside her, said, "O mamma, see the bay- window with suspenders on it!"
Our chief winter sports were skating and coasting, the former on the Creek and Fox Pond, the latter on School Street and "Sabe's" Hill. School Street was for the smaller children when coasting was not prohibited on account of the danger of col- lisions with teams at the intersection of Main Street, but Sabe's Hill on Church Street, having little traffic, was ours unrestricted. The hill was long and steep, affording plenty of speed, and there were several waterbars that gave us good jumps. It was a safe place, where we gave little annoyance to residents. The name "Sabe's" Hill was a contraction of Sabin's Hill; the Sabins having been long residents on the south side of the street. We used sin- gle sleds, and "traverses," made of two sleds with a long board connecting them. They accommodated five or six persons and were steered by the front man who lay on his stomach and guided the front sled. There was a brook crossed by a narrow bridge at the foot of the hill. On one occasion two boys and two or three girls were coasting down the hill when a foot of one of the girls caught and turned the front sled, causing the traverses to leave the roadway and plunge into the icy water of the brook. It is unneces- sary to enter into particulars of the cold bath that the party-shall I say, enjoyed.
Taste in decorative art varies widely between individuals ; some find satisfaction in decoration while others enjoy best simple proportions. Style, on the other hand, is determined by economic conditions, by tradition and largely by vogue. These statements apply particularly to our dwelling houses. Brick may predomi-
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nate where timber is scarce; frame houses where it is plentiful; but why one style of house predominates for a period and then an- other follows is not so easily explained. We do know, however, that people follow the local custom to a great extent, and that custom changes from time to time. During the 1870's a consider- able number of houses in Wallingford had piazzas and bay- windows added to them, ornamented with jigsaw brackets in most instances. We seem justified in calling this the jigsaw age. No doubt these additions gave increased comfort and conven- ience to the owners, to some extent, but the taste which they ex- hibited was sometimes open to criticism. Some fine old houses in the colonial style appear not to have been improved. The house built by Alexander Miller was one that had a piazza added to the front and south side, a change not in keeping with the original design. The brick farm house built for Lois Munson Hill by her brother, Israel Munson, is an example of the addition of three bay-windows and a porch with numerous brackets. The interior may have been improved but we cannot say the same for the ex- terior. The brick house at the corner of Main and Franklin Streets is another example of a change not in harmony with the original design. One house of this period was built with a broad piazza surrounding it on three sides, shutting out much light from rooms on the ground floor. However, there was one exception, Isaac B. Munson added a square bay-window to the south side of his vil- lage residence which, I believe, any architect would say was an addition made with good taste.
Today there are few if any domestic animals kept within the limits of the village, but such was not the case in the 1870's. Then many families kept a cow and a pig, and some had one or more horses. When we lived by the station it was my task to drive a cow a mile or more to pasture every morning and to drive her home at night. I had the companionship of several other boys and did not object to the task so long as I was awakened in the morn-
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ing in time to go with the other boys, but to accompany my cow to pasture after the other boys had gone and returned was somewhat humiliating.
The village grew out of farms and in the decade of which we are writing the house of Alfred Hull, on Main Street, was sur- rounded by his farm buildings and barnyard. The same was true of the Alexander Miller place, then the home of Wheaton Kent.
On Mill Lane, only a few steps from Main Street, stood a rather dilapidated shop where Jerome B. Hilliard painted carriages, sleighs, wagons, etc. It may seem to the uninformed a simple mat- ter to paint and varnish a carriage but such is not the case, espe- cially when it has to be "striped." Striping requires knowledge, a steady hand and good taste. Varnishing requires judgment in the choice of material, skill in handling the brush and proper sur- roundings to eliminate dust. Mr. Hilliard had the necessary accomplishments. Besides being a carriage painter he was a wheelwright and made the wood parts of a wagon or a sled when occasion demanded.
Mr. Hilliard was very fond of music and had a good voice,- tenor, I believe. Most of his children possessed more or less musi- cal talent. His granddaughter, Mrs. Theodore Töedt, is cele- brated, having sung for many years in St. Bartholomew's Church, New York City, and on the concert stage. Mr. Hilliard and his two daughters were the mainstay of the Congregational Church choir many years, for which the church owes them a debt of gratitude.
One summer evening my sister and a friend were playing duets on the piano. The windows were open, for the weather was warm. Someone happened to go to the door and saw Mr. Hilliard sitting on the front fence listening to the music. He was immedi- ately invited to come in, of course, and he listened as long as the girls were willing to play.
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Mr. Hilliard was jovial, good natured, enjoyed a joke and was given to banter with his friends and neighbors.
Facing the railroad on the east side about a hundred yards north of Elm Street stood the blacksmith shop of William Clark, who shod horses and oxen, repaired wagons and sleds, and did a general blacksmithing business. We boys called him "Old Clark," and feared him a little; at least he did not seem friendly. He was tall, thin and loose jointed, with sharp piercing eyes, and promi- nent features that might be taken for a typical Mephistopheles. These characteristics were emphasized by his manner of speech and his habit of staring at one. Notwithstanding these peculiari- ties he was a good blacksmith and got his share of patronage.
On the north side of his shop stood a huge wooden frame in which oxen were tied up when being shod. The process was as follows: the ox was led into the frame and its neck secured in a stanchion, as is ordinarily done in a stable. A large leather apron was then passed under its body and was drawn up by two wind- lasses which were built into the frame and located high up on each side. Chains attached to the apron wound up on the windlass drums. By this means the ox was lifted completely off the floor. Its feet were then bound by ropes to horizontal beams on the sides of the frame. When thus suspended in the frame, with its head and feet securely fastened, the ox might struggle but could move but little. The hoofs were in a convenient position for the smith to fit and nail the iron shoes, each of which, unlike horse- shoes, were made in two pieces, adapted to cloven hoofs.
Oxen were generally used on Vermont farms by the early set- tler for they were better adapted to the rough ground on which they had to work than horses, but in the 1870's they had been dis- placed by horses to a considerable extent and today I do not know of a place where they can be shod. Clark's shop was not the only place in town where ox shoeing was done. Joseph Randall had a
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blacksmith shop on Main Street, on the south side of Roaring Brook, equipped for this purpose.
A third blacksmith shop, owned and operated by Frank Hoad- ley, a veteran of the Civil War, was located on School Street and was equipped with waterpower from Roaring Brook. No oxen were shod in this shop. Mr. Hoadley's business was chiefly shoe- ing horses and ironing wagons and sleds. For a time Charles Hil- liard, a wheelwright, also a Civil War veteran, was a partner of Mr. Hoadley. They made wagons and sleds, Hilliard doing the wood-work on the second floor of the shop.
Blacksmith shops have diminished in number as horses and buggies have been displaced by motor vehicles. In this village that once supported three there is but one today. With them has gone the skill of the blacksmith, which is to be regretted, for his was an art-in some instances a fine art-not easily acquired, and only for those gifted with a certain kind of manual dexterity. I have been often fascinated in watching a blacksmith forge a piece of iron into a shape seemingly impossible while his anvil rang under the hammer blows that must fall before the red-hot iron loses its color and becomes hard. I remove my hat to the skillful blacksmith.
We all regret the passing of a number of small industries that once provided a livelihood for men and their familes in Walling- ford. Just a short distance east of Hoadley's shop stood a sash and blind factory, the wheels of which were turned by the waters of Roaring Brook; but one fateful day it burned to the ground. The factory was operated by Andrew Jackson Bartholomew who em- ployed Zachary Taylor Cook and Martin Van Buren Edgerton. These men made the sash and the blinds. In an adjoining room John Quincy Adams manufactured wooden snow shovels of a peculiar design for which the United States had granted him a patent.
After Batcheller and Sons moved from the Old Stone Shop
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Leander Simonds made oxbows in the wooden annex at the north end of the shop. Here he employed several men to shave the hickory sticks that they afterward steamed and bent to the re- quired shape. Mr. Simonds also, for a short time, manufactured nests of wooden bowls from sugar maple. This was done in the basement of the sawmill that was a part of Batcheller & Sons' plant beside the creek.
Arnold Nicholson had a harness and saddlery shop adjoining his house which stood on the west side of Main Street and north side of Roaring Brook. He was a brother of David E. Nicholson, a prominent lawyer in Rutland. Arnold was a peculiar man in ap- pearance and otherwise. He was thin and slender with sharp piercing eyes. Most of his time was spent in his shop or his home. When not otherwise engaged he wrote verses but is remembered as a harness maker rather than a poet.
A building was erected close beside the depot and on the ridge of the roof in large letters bore the sign Wallingford Monu- mental Works. The proprietor was John R. Adair, son of John Adair of South Wallingford. The father had not been successful in operating a marble quarry and mill in the south part of the town but the son, who first learned the stone cutter's trade, em- ployed several men and did a good business until his death. Many of the headstones and monuments in Green Hill Cemetery were made and erected by him. He was short in stature; a quiet, unas- suming man, highly respected in the community.
Wallingford is fortunate in having an excellent bakery which dates back to the days when Perry Wells began making bread on a small scale in the home manner. He had no machinery but his product was good. The village people had to be educated to de- pend upon a baker for their loaves. Bread making had been one of the arts of the kitchen which the housewife was expected to know. Now most of the bread consumed in the village comes from a bakery.
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I doubt that a pair of boots are worn by any man in the village today, but not so in the 1870's. Furthermore the boots and shoes of that period were expected to outwear more than one pair of soles. When the soles were worn through there was a cobbler to repair them. His name was Moses Dewgaw, a French Canadian, whose shop was in his house, the first on the north side of School Street east of the Baptist Church. His work was not limited to re- pairing. He would make you a pair of boots or shoes if you so de- sired. Mr. Dewgaw spoke broken English and had a keen sense of humor. His remarks usually created a smile, and perhaps a re- joinder, on the part of a caller.
The church bell rang out one night awakening the people of the village by the cry of fire. Bradford's tannery was in flames. The tannery, located at the head of Mill Lane beside the brook from which it derived its power was totally destroyed and its proprietors, Benj. Bradford and Son, became bankrupt as a result. The property, including land, dwelling house, waterpower, etc. was purchased by Frank Johnson, who afterwards occupied the house and built a gristmill on the site of the tannery. This was in 1876. Johnson operated the gristmill until 1888 and then sold it to William Ballou. The gristmill is shown facing page 305.
People did not have to go abroad for pots, pans, tea-kettles, milk cans, sap buckets, or tinware of any kind for all these could be supplied by Edgar D. Sabin whose tin shop stood on the east side of Main Street just south of Roaring Brook. The floor of the shop was usually strewn deep with scraps of tin, for house clean- ing was not a task that received much attention, but Mr. Sabin was a skillful tinsmith and his wares met the requirements of his customers.
For many years most of the surveying in Wallingford was done by Harvey Shaw and his name frequently appears in the records of the town. He died June 30, 1878, eighty-two years of
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age. Since then most of the land surveys have been made by some one from out of town.
In the first half of the nineteenth century the farmers made butter and cheese on their farms. There was a large cheese room in the third story of my grandfather's house. These dairy prod- ucts were trucked to Boston before the days of railroads. By 1870 the making of cheese on the farms had been given up and instead milk was taken to a cheese factory, one of which was to be found in nearly every town. The factories were usually oper- ated co-operatively. The farmers, who owned the factory, hired a cheese maker, and sold their product where they could find the best market. The profits were distributed as dividends. The cheese factory in Wallingford village was on Church Street and for sev- eral years Martin Williams was the cheese maker. There was an- other factory in East Wallingford.
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